Badass Farmers
by Nina Windia
Summary: Prepare yourself, cuz your favourite farming sim is about to go BADASS.
1. Cecil in da hood

Hey whassup homies this is a new story comin at ya from the double duo of Crusty Bum and Hairy Buttocks. Yeah but like kiddies might find this obscene cuz there's like swearing banging and killing and like west side against east. Violence is a terrible thing, man.

_Badass Farmers_

**_Part One; Cecil in da Hood_**

Cecil "Yo-Yo Knickers" Harvey had had a great time at the maximum-security borstal, but like all good things, it was time for it to come to an end. Cecil was ready to move on. He remembered wistfully the gang warfare in the exercise yard, all the female councillors he'd banged, their legs draped lovingly over the desk, high heels flung off in a fit of passion. Stubby "One-Ear," who he'd graduated into Stubby "No-Ears" with the aid of a trusty hack saw. Then there were all the boys who'd come in because of a bit of graffiti, and left hardened criminals, due to Cecil's dope-selling program. Cecil was proud of this; he thought it important to do your bit for society.

Ah, these were the days memories were made of. But Cecil was tired of the garish grey and yellow overalls the inmates were squeezed, rammed and zipped into, regardless if their skin tone clashed. For Cecil was a man of style, selling hash on the side since he was nine years old to keep him in Nike trainers and Addidas hoodies.

"Well," said Liza, his favourite councillor, as he splayed her out over the filing cabinet. "What do you think about a farmer's clothes instead? I think you'd look smoking in a straw hat." She pulled out a creased advert from underneath her voluptuous buttocks and slid it to him. Cecil glanced down.

**-Exciting Ranch Program-**

**Hosted in Flower Bud Valley**

**Helping reformed characters integrate into society**

"Sweet as a nutmeg," Cecil said, before tossing the advert aside over his shoulder and doing Liza like a powerdrill.

* * *

A Lamborghini screeched through the fields as Cecil powered into Flower Bud Valley, pausing to shred up the Mayor's garden, skidding crop circles and spraying mud and turnips over the freshly washed windows.

The Mayor ran outside, crying, "Young man, are you alright? You seem to have lost control of your automobile!"

Cecil lowered his ice blue shades. "Shut up, bitch." He clicked a chrome plated switch and activated the bunny hops, bouncing up and down the garden and cranking up the rap music.

The Mayor smiled on cordially.

"So you are Mr Cecil Harvey, for the Exciting Ranch Program?"

"That's Cecil Yo-Yo Knickers to you, asswipe."

"Mr Yo-Yo Knickers." Still smiling, he approached the Diablo and peered inside. "What a nice station wagon. It looks expensive."

"Not really. I nicked it."

The Mayor laughed and clapped him on the back. "What a delightful sense of humour! I see we're going to get on just swell Mr Yo-Yo Knickers. Now tell me, how did a lovely young man like you end up in a borstal? Did you take penny sweets without paying?" He waggled his finger chastisingly.

"Nahh man it was nothin' really. I just tortured a coupla' bastards who didn't cough up on their dope money y'know? Chopped off a couple of fingers and toes. Don't know why the pigs made such a big deal really."

The Mayor chuckled. "I can see you're going to get on splendidly with everyone. Oh—Maria. Say hello dear. This is Mr Yo-Yo Knickers."

Just then, a girl ducked out of the house, hiding behind her dark hair, her grey puritan dress not displaying a slice of ankle. She blushed and looked down modestly. "This is my daughter Maria," the Mayor said. "Feel free to court her."

Cecil stared at Maria wolfishly. He could almost_ feel_ the double D breasts hidden by all that baggy material, and it just made him hornier. "Ooooohhhhhh yeahhhhh." He activated the bunny hops again, jumping two feet out of the car each time.

Maria blushed and ran inside.

Cecil flicked his fingers. "I'm in there."

The Mayor showed Cecil round his new home, assessing his new wooden shack, deciding it was just _begging _to become the village's first (sorely needed) ganja den. He saw with delight the five prime acres perfect for growing cannibis. The Mayor had thought of everything; he'd even included an outhouse he'd called "the shipping box" and a tool chest full of weapons which were almost baying for blood.

But in the end, Cecil hit a few bits of wood with a hammer, and then got bored and spent the rest of the day getting completely wasted in somebody's cabbage patch. He happily watched pink puffy machete's float by in the clouds, but was constantly disturbed by the goody-two-shoes villagers, who insisted introducing themselves and giving him fruit baskets.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Basil—"

"Fuck off."

"I've brought you some medicinal herbs—"

"Are they ganja?"

"No…"

"Then fuck off."

A few minutes passed in blessed silence. Cecil put a hand in front of face and said, "Wow, I can see the whole universe in my palm man." But then—

"Hi. I'm Joe."

Cecil threw himself up with an udulating cry, and chased after Joe with a sickle.

* * *

Some hours later, after hiding the dead body, Cecil thought it was about time to show these punks who was boss. Leaning out of the side of his lambo, twiddling the megaphone up to max, he bellowed out, "Fuck you! Fuck you! I just want to fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!"

The blacksmith called back, "Good evening!"

Eve said, "Hello!"

Doug; "Welcome to the village!"

Cecil cranked the megaphone from Obscenely Loud to Gastronomically Loud. "I JUST WANT TO FUCK FUCK FUCK YOU!"

"Fuck yourself, bastard! And turn that that fucking thing down!" It was a small funny looking man in a poncho, glaring like a bulldog. Or was it a woman?

Cecil's eyes swivelled round, and as he did, little hearts popped out of his eyes and swirled round the little man's head. He staggered out of the Lambo and crawled up to him.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Fuck off," said the man.

Cecil was entranced.

"Are you a man or a woman?" he asked.

The man looked him up and down, before smiling approvingly. "I have both." He wriggled his eyebrows at him.

Cecil hooked his arm round Jamie's. "How do you fancy entering into a business partnership? I want to turn this town upside down. You think you can convince some of the girls to sell themselves for weed?"

Jamie looked up at Cecil from under his eyelashes. "Don't worry; they're all secretly massive sluts. Nina licked my nipples in the back of the tool shed yesterday."

And with that, he kissed him passionately on the lips.

"I can see this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship," said Cecil.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	2. Pimp my Combine Harvester

_Badass Farmers_

_Part 2; Pimp my Combine Harvester_

**Six weeks later…**

The Mayor was snivelling on the ground, clutching hold of Cecil's trackies with desperate fingers. "Please!" he said, tears running down his cheeks. "Just give me till next week. I'll pay up, honest!"

Cecil kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling. He adjusted his trackies. "You're soiling my threads, dickweed," he said. "You get me the money for my fuzzy juice by Tuesday, or I'll mash your potatoes and feed 'em to my puppy." A huge rotwhiler, Mr Fluffy, snarled by Cecil's side, teeth chiselled to a point by a pencil sharpener, flecked with bits of meat, his steroid-built muscles popping with veins.

"O-of course Cecil," stuttered the Mayor.

Cecil smirked. "And hey- there's someone I want you to see. Oi biatch, get over here!"

Maria clambered out of the bean field giggling, helping a man to his feet and readjusting her candy g-string. She wore nothing more but this, a candy bikini, and pink party bunny ears. Wobbling along on studded stilettos, she glistened with baby oil and body glitter. Approaching Cecil with a coy smile, she flicked her dark hair over one shoulder.

"Hey ma little whore. How's business?" Cecil said.

Maria smiled brilliantly. "Great! I've banged five men already tonight.

"It's cuz you is such a little fox!"

She sidled up to him, running her hands down his muscular abs. "So I was thinking," she said, as her hands delved into the last frontier of Cecil's y-fronts, "could I maybe get a raise?"

Cecil moaned, and grudged, "an extra 50p per client."

Maria skipped around him, kissing him exuberantly on the lips. "Yippee! Now I can buy that Japanese table lamp Daddy won't get for me."

"…Maria?" The Mayor looked at his chaste daughter in shock.

"Oh, hi Daddy," Maria said nonchalantly, taking a pocket mirror out and examining her hair.

"But… why would you do this sweetie?"

Maria didn't even look at him; instead, popped out her red hot lipstick and applied the fourteenth layer of the night. "Well Daddy, ever since you got into debt with Cecil," she rubbed his buttocks up and down," I haven't been able to get all the things I want. And you've always said I should get a better job. And I'm _really_ enjoying the work. Cecil runs a great dental plan, you know."

Cecil slapped her on the rump. "Thanks toots. Now get back to the shagging." Giggling, Maria wobbled off down the sidewalk. Saibara threw pennies at her and threw her into the back of his tractor. The Mayor broke down weeping while Cecil had a wank.

"_Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me_!" Disco music blared down the street as Jamie skidded to a halt in Cecil's pimped up combine harvester, complete with alloy wheels, disco lights and a mirror ball rotating from the rearview mirror. Super sub woofers blasted out Jamie's dulcet tones, as he scratched out some flavours on the inbuilt DJ desk. "_Fuck me! Fuck me!"_ he screamed, as the bass boomed through the village, vibrating Cecil like an electric willy wangling machine.

"Ohhhhhh yeahhhhh," he said, before leaping into the combine harvester next to Jamie, who was shrieking into the mic. He turned and gave Cecil the eye.

"Hey, babycakes."

"Hey Sugarpie." Cecil looked over at Jamie's gimp suit and dog collar with appreciation.

"Hi Cecil!" called Nina, sitting in the back of the harvester with her pink hair and her pouty lips. Gina was with her, dressed in a sexy nurse uniform that started in her nipples and ended at her navel. Mr Fluffy jumped in with them and licked Nina's bare jiggling breasts. Nina got horny and started making out with Gina on the straw bails. Saliva dribbled down Cecil's chin, and Jamie hit him.

"Hey biatch what was that for?"

"Nothing," said Jamie petulantly, arms foiled and pouting.

"Jealous?"

"Of course not," Jamie hmphed, before he quickly changed the conversation; "How's business?" he asked.

"Yeah man good. Jus' been shaking the fucking pennies from the mayor's pockets. He's a stingy bastardo."

Jamie fluttered his eyelashes. "And am I going to get my 50% soon?"

"Of course baby. As soon as my underpants get back from the laundrette."

Jamie smiled deviantly. "So how about we head back and do the sideways monster mash?"

"Alright but this time I get to tie _you_ with the pink fluffy handcuffs."

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	3. You're just using me for my body?

_Badass Farmers_

_Part 3- You're just using me for my body?_

Katie was shoving cream cakes up Cecil's ass when Jamie burst in. Red faced and panting, he looked on the verge of tears.

"Get off my boyfriend you whore!" he cried, snatching a cream cake and smashing it into Katie's face. Dressed as a French waitress in black stockings, she screamed an udulation and fell upon Jamie. The two of them wrestled on the floor, throwing off clothing and smashing éclairs into one another. Lounged on his rotating love bed, Cecil lit up a spliff and had a willy wangle. Jamie knocked Katie out with his wang and stepped over her unconscious body.

"Hey blud wassup?" said Cecil nonchalantly.

"Cecil… were you… were you cheating on me?" Jamie, naked and covered in cream, asked tearfully.

"Yah man that biatch Katie wanted some creamy fun."

"But!" Jamie exclaimed, indignant now. "I'm your girlfriend!"

"Nah I never said that. You're banging good in bed but I don't do wine n' dine. Now do you wanna put that chocolate elair between ma fruit buns for me?"

But Jamie stood his ground. "Are you saying you're only using me for my body?"

"Nah nah your organizational skills are sick. I couldn't have got all these hoes without ya. Plus that poncho is very flattering."

"But I thought you loved—"

Before he could continue, Cecil shoved her wang down Jamie's throat.

"Shh, shh," he crooned.

Jamie resisted for only a few seconds. Then contentedly he sucked on it, like a baby on his bottle, eyes drifting closed.

"There there," said Cecil, before he burped Jamie on his shoulder. "Baby likes his milky."

Then he settled Jamie down under a blanket and tucked him in.

He stared at Katie, naked and unconscious on the floor. "Wake up," he said, nudging her with his foot. "C'mon," he whined. "C-mon."

* * *

The boys loved Eve. They loved her because she was always drunk, and because whatever you did to her one night- -even if she retained the cognitive ability to say no—she'd never remember the perpetrator in the morning. Eve had been the village's one dirty secret, selling herself long before Cecil had come onto the scene. She was poor wasted drunk Eve, mindlessly wandering the streets drinking, looking for punters where there were none, long gone to Cecil and his damned fresh-faced tight virginal whores. Peniless Eve, with her wasted good looks, saggy breasts and a smoker's cough like the grim reaper's death rattle. Worn and lined, and only twenty-one.

And she'd had so much hope, arriving in the village three years earlier, only to be sacked from the tavern for drinking on the job. Now, with all her competition, no man would touch her with a barge pole.

"You probably have chlamydia," Hank sneered.

"Yeah," said Eve, "you gave it to me."

Yes, Eve knew all the downsides these ignorant little girls would learn soon, that came from whoring yourself. They were stunned by the glamour, but she had seen the seedy side to prostitution. She knew the leaking, the oozing, the congealing. She knew what it was like to stink but not care anymore, because the whole world stunk. And most off all— to cry herself to sleep everynight, because she knew she'd never love a man again, after she'd seen what men were really like. Yes, Eve knew that prostitution was no laughing matter, certainly no basis for a humorous parody.

Then Eve slung off her dirt-encrusted thong and shook her oversized booty at the passing men.

She didn't get anywhere with it, and it was then she realised she'd have no choice but to get a job with Cecil.

To feed his ferocious habit, Cecil had two thousand acres of ganja. They were worked on by child slaves, working mechanically, chained together in lines as Saibara hit out a merciless beat on his steel drums. It was Eve's job, as an overseer, to make sure no child slacked and held back the line. The whip was the tool of the trade.

"You want to eat tonight?" screamed Martha, her colleague. "Then pick that damn ganja!" She hit the boy with her bamboo rod, and he burst into tears. "Crocodile tears won't help you now, honey," she sneered.

Hank drove past in his pick up truck, a gaggle of topless girls in the back. Nina saw Eve working in the field and stuck her middle fingers at her. Eve looked on expressionlessly, and Nina stuck her tongue out and made an L on her head. They drove away in a spiral of dust.

Eve began to wonder what the point of life was. What was the meaning of anything anymore? Her weak grip on sanity snapped like a wire. She grabbed a handful of unripe ganja and lit up, collapsing down into the dirt. Soon the children were all doing it, and the other overseers couldn't control them. They rolled around on the floor, shoving dirt into their mouths.

"Eve! What are you doing? Punish them!" screamed Martha.

"Fuck you, I'm a fish!" Eve yelled.

Martha picked up her walkie-talkie. "Cecil, we've got a problem in the fields; can you come over?"

The walkie talkie buzzed back; "I'm having a wank."

"Please Cecil. It's urgent."

But when Cecil came over, he only laughed, and lit up himself. Soon he was writhing around on the ground with the kids, soiling himself.

"See what you've done?" Martha screeched at Eve. "This is all your fault, whore!"

Eve punched her in the face. Then, she and Cecil decided it might be fun to strap an old lady to the railway tracks. Life in the village was so damn boring. She decided that maybe having him around wouldn't be so bad after all…

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. No Fury like a Hermaphrodite Scorned

_Badass Farmers_

_Part 4; Hell hath no Fury like a Hermaphrodite Scorned_

Cecil was wheeling around his chrome tractor inspecting the fields that afternoon. Ganja. Poppies. Though for some reason that fiver he'd planted still hadn't sprouted. The peasants ducked onto the ground as he passed, shoving their faces into the dirt as they bowed down on quivering terror-struck knees. Cecil liked to think that his arrival had improved the village to no end. When he had arrived it had been dying, populated mostly by old ladies and cats. Now it bustled with drug dealers and whores. Cecil had specially shipped in a crate of children from China to work on his fields, making sure the youth of today were learning the important trades; dealing, pimping and Acting Gangsta. And of course, his prostitutes were top-notch. Sat by his side, giggling and tossing her hair into the wind, Nina had been a fifteen year old virgin when Cecil broke her in, he and Saibara taking turns to bang her against the chicken coop.

Cecil revved the engine and Nina cried, "Cecil, go faster!" He stomped down on the gas, spraying black smoke out of six exhausts and spinning out of control over the prairie. Mangled hash flew everywhere; they were sprayed with a sea of ganja. Nina screamed with delight, grabbing hold of Cecil as the front wheels reared into the air. Cecil thought, it was a good thing he had installed a roll cage.

They smashed through rows of fences, tearing through the Blue Sky ranch and scattering chickens everywhere. A ginger tom leapt out of harm's way, and Nina shrieked, "Run it over Cecil! Kill it! Kill it!"

The tractor swerved after the cat, yowling in terror as they exploded through the barn and the outhouse, until it scuttled up a wall and shimmied up a drain pipe.

"Ceeeeeeeciiiil," Nina complained, pouting. "I wanted you to kill something."

Cecil looked at her expectantly.

"For… meeeee?" she purred.

He stared harder. She sighed and flashed him her boobs. Cecil pulled out his shotgun and fired into the air. A dead red kite landed in Nina's lap. She screamed with laughter and kissed him joyously.

Cecil thought he could hear something over the wind. Something other than gunfire and screaming. It sounded a little bit like Jamie on his DJ box, except he wasn't grinding out his usual tune. Actually, his new song was slightly worrying. This is what Cecil heard;

**"Fuckin' cheatin' Cecil—**

**I'm gonna wrestle—**

**His fuckin' balls-**

**With my fuckin' jaws!"**

But Cecil decided there was nothing to stress over. Jamie always got like this at a certain time of the month. A bit of wang always sorted him out nicely.

"Hey, babycakes!" he called, as the combine harvester rumbled into sight. Jamie had the disco lights on full glare. His furious face shined blue, green, red. He put all of his anger into his DJ'ing, and he grinded out a masterpiece;

**"Fuck you Cecil!**

**You can't shit me about—**

**I've found everything out!"**

Cecil smiled soothingly. "Found what out, my sugarpie?"

**"Damn you bitch—**

**One of your big boys snitched.**

**There ain't no laundrette**

**You've hung me out to dry.**

**But boy, you're in hot water yet!"**

Cecil saw there was nothing for it. He pressed a button and the dashboard in the tractor swivelled, revealing a gleaming mix desk. He cracked his fingers and rolled up his sleeves.

**"No girl, I never lied to you,**

**Like I promised I'd be true.**

**No, I ain't being funny**

**You'll get your money**

**And that's a promise, Cecil style"**

Jamie grinded out a storm in reply;

**"Then why does Big Stevie Jerrin**

**Say you're throwing me a red herring?**

**Don't lie to me**

**You're no truer than Martha's dodgy knee."**

He threw in some tropical tunes at the end. And Cecil admitted;

**"So maybe I lied**

**Why's it matter to you?**

**You're just a free fuck**

**But you're driving me cuckoo."**

Jamie was furious. Beyond furious. And his eyes blazed as he mixed;

**"Is that all I am to you?**

**You're dreamin' thinking we're not through.**

**Maybe you think I'm a whore**

**But let's throw away the gender stereotypes, asswipe**

**Cuz I'm Jamie, hermaphrodite**

**And you're you're the whore, you fuckin' sleezeball."**

Cecil was momentarily stunned. Passers by broke into applause. Jamie bowed. Sweat broke out on Cecil's forehead, and he grinded faster.

**"You ain't got no right no speak**

**Cuz you're a fucking freak**

**Even in Australia**

**They ain't seen nothing as disgusting as your genitalia."**

Then, Jamie broke.

**"I don't care about the money**

**I'm not being funny—it didn't mean nothin' to me**

**I just wanted you to be my baby muffin**

**-forever**

**But you're the big bad wolf**

**Always puffin', puffin'**

**And baby—you blew down my heart**

**Oh! What a charade!**

**You belong in the bin, but I let down my guard and welcomed you in.**

**But the worst thing about this jizz**

**Is that I really loved you!"**

He burst into tears, and Nina laughed. Cecil began to gloat.

**"Your metre is crap, just like you**

**You couldn't rhyme for a dime**

**Now fuck off,**

**And find somewhere else to whine."**

Nina shrieked with giggles and gave Cecil a high five, but Jamie recovered. Glowering with malevolence on the desk he turned on the bass beat and began to boom out a five-speaker stereo eardrum-burster.

**"You can't shut me up**

**By shoving a dick in my mouth**

**You dick.**

**Cuz your candle's burnin' so low it's on the wick.**

**You can't surround yourself with yes-men**

**Thinkin' you'll run this town till the now 'n when.**

**See, when you're sitting pretty**

**I'll steal this city.**

**And bitch, remember this**

**You had sex with a man."**

With that Jamie stood and dropped his pants. The crowd stared. Gaping, Nina pointed.

"Look at _that_," she said, in awe.

But Cecil was enraged. He revved his engine into submission and barrelled straight towards the combine harvester. Jamie swerved, and reversing back into him, he hooked the tractor with his fork lift. Then, with Cecil swearing and Nina screaming, he towed them across the field and dumped them into the river.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	5. No Fat Chicks

_Badass Farmers_

_Part 5; No Fat Chicks_

Lesbian naturists Lyla and Nami always came to Flower Bud Valley for the summer, eager to soak up the peace and tranquillity of the village. The residents were always friendly and they had made some true friends here. But this year, they got the feeling that something was a little different. It started when they saw the welcome sign in graceful calligraphy;

~Welcome To~

MY ASS!

The sign was so filled with holes it looked like swiss cheese. Someone had also added at the bottom; No fat chicks.

Hank sat underneath with a shotgun in his lap. He glared at Lyla and Nami and nodded them through. They hurried past.

In the endangered wildlife reserve, where the girls had spent many happy years frolicking with the animals and picnicking, Bob was busy blowing heads of rabbits. He and Blue carried tommy guns and blood-stained bags full of decapitated birds. Meanwhile, Nina and Terry were bonking in the dirt.

"Nina!" Lyla exclaimed, shocked and appalled at her friend's new appearance. Nina was also smoking seventeen cigarettes and injecting heroin.

She took her cigs out look enough to exhale and say, "I'm busy, bitch."

"But what happened to you?" Lyla said tearfully.

"Fuck off; we're busy," said Terry, taking another pop of Viagra. Nina moaned and wriggled underneath Terry's double hip replacements.

The girls decided they should probably leave them to it.

"Well," Nami said wryly, once they were out of sight, "I guess he must be loaded."

"Poor Nina," Lyla said, clutching a hand to her heart.

"Poor Nina?" said Nami. "Don't you mean _rich_ Nina?"

Gunfire rattled overhead. The trees opened out before them, and they saw buildings mottled with bullet pocks, razor wire and trenches splitting the village in half. It looked like a scene from Palestine, not Flower Bud Valley. A man in a balaclava let out a screaming Indian war cry and launched himself from the top of the post office, wielding a machete. Kurt ran towards him, yodelling and flailing a nunchuck.

"Hmm…" said Lyla. "Feels like something's different here."

They hurried down to the beach, as a handgrenade exploded behind them.

The beach was quiet, and at peace at last the naturists stripped off their clothes and spread out their beach towels. Lyla rolled onto her stomach as Nami rubbed sunblock onto her back.

"Ooooooooooh yeaaaaaahhh." Basil rolled his hips round in a circle. "Hey lezzahs."

Nami looked at him blandly. "You seem to have mistaken us chump. We're the type of lesbians who _don't_ have sex with men."

Basil looked momentarily confused, and then glared at them. "That threatens me," he said.

Lyla tugged at her friend, whispering, "Come on Nami. We can find another spot on the beach…"

"No," Nami said firmly. "This is our spot. One eyed Willy needs to learn that not every woman wants to play with his miniscule dick."

"But… Nami!" said Lyla.

"Remember what we learnt at Brighton Pride. You can't bow down to ignorant homophobia. Lyla, you are a strong, independent woman!"

She kissed her passionately. "Oh Nami!" she said breathlessly. "You're right. You're always right!" She collapsed into her arms.

Meanwhile, Basil had erupted into panting sweaty hives. The girls looked at him, shrugged, and made out.

But just then, a combine harvester exploded over the sand dunes, knocking the lesbians flying like bowling pins. With one hand Jamie controlled the steering wheel, the other he fired a machine gun. He even clasped a cigar between his smirking teeth.

_Rat tat tat tat tat_! Went the machine gun.

A tank rumbled over the beach café. In camouflage beret, Cecil poked his head out of the top and screamed, "After him! That bitch had gone my mother fucking combine harvester!"

His ten-piece SAS trained team shouted, "Yes sir Cecil sir!"

"I'm legally entitled to half your stuff!" yelled Jamie.

"We're not fucking married, you freak!" said Cecil.

_Rat tat tat tat tat!_

"Did I mention I've got your Tinie Tempah album too?"

"You piece of **$£*"$£!"£%$^*&**)%$££!** when I get hold of you I'm going to **£"%!"!"£$%£$^%&( **and **£"%£"%$&%^*() **and break it in two before I **£$$^%$ ** and stick it up your **!"!£))_+&*^£** so you'll have to **£"$^$&%&** sideways!"

Ten minutes later, there was silence along the shores. Eventually, Lyla managed to pull Nami out from where she was stuck headfirst into the sand.

"Something really does seem different about this place," said Lyla. "I can't put my finger on it…"

"Maybe they made this a blue flag beach?" Nami pondered.

There was an explosion, and flaming puppies ran past yelping.

"Well," she said, "Divorce is a messy business."

"Shudda signed a pre-nup," said Lyla.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. The Flashback Episode

_Badass Farmers_

_Part 6; The Flashback Episode (Not recommended for epileptic viewers)_

In Cecil's camp, banners flying high overhead, the men were preparing for war. Bob and Kurt were loading their AK-47's, bullets strung over their shoulders like necklaces. The sexy technician, Ann, who was so hot nobody even made fun of her for being ginger, was packing grenades with high-grade manure.

"You know," she said to Cecil, "these might be more effective if we use explosives instead of shit."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, bitch!" Cecil fumed. "I've always told Jamie he's full of shit and now it's time to make good on my words."

Ann stood to her full height, her crop top breasts straining under her braces, one hand on her hips, the other- tossing the shit grenade up and down.

"What did you call me?" she said.

"I said you were a bitch, bit—" He eyed the grenade in her hand, where she was now thoughtfully stroking the pin. "I mean, you're a hand worker and keep it up!"

"That's what I thought," she said, sitting back down.

"Hey Cecil, you better watch out!" Nina giggled. "Or you might end up as a _shitty_ leader."

"Oh shut and get back to the shagging," Cecil snapped.

"I _am_," she said, and continued bonking the gourmet. She threw her head back and moaned, as saliva ran down the gourmet's fat lips.

Cecil thought; _That bitch has got great work ethic. She's gonna go places._

Then he thought; _Fucking Jamie I'm gonna rip his balls off and shove them up his arse. _

Then he thought; _Actually, he'd probably enjoy that. _

Lately Cecil was often caught by thoughts went off at a tangent. He suspected it had something to do with the two hundred ounces of hasha he'd smoked of Nina's mum's ass. Damn that woman was sexy. What he wouldn't give to have a threesome with the two of them. And maybe she'd jam a jammy dodger up his behind and use his balls as bongo drums again, just as he liked it_. Oh, yeah…_

"Cecil!" Bob yelled. "A messenger from the enemy camp!"

Cecil was approached by the most badass eight-year old you could ever meet. Tim had invested the gold from the mines wisely, putting it into Cecil's marijuana and Nike trainers. He sidled up to Cecil clutching his privates, draped in gold bling, his cap set jauntily on his head.

"Wassup blud," he said, flicking his fingers. "Cuz you 'as dissed my main man Jamie-o, started all this funk and shit, not givin' him his fair fetti when he's been helping yo stack papa you caused a damn set trippin. Now Jamie wants to make one thing clear; unless he gets he gets his scratch you scanless wanksta, things are goin' down por vida and you're gonna catch a hot one."

Cecil whispered to Bob; "You know what he's saying?"

"How the hell should I?" said Bob. "I ain't black. You _should_ know."

"I gotta be honest with ya Bob…" said Cecil, leaning close to Bob's ear. "I'm gonna tell ya something I ain't told anyone… I ain't actually black."

Bob stared at Cecil's white skin in shock. "You ain't!"

"No," said Cecil. "I'm British."

"Holy shit!" said Bob. "You're a teapot twizzler!"

"Yeah, I jus watched too much MTV in my youth."

"Damn!" said Bob. "We oughta call in a specialist then. I can't understand this shit. Do you actually know anyone… who is black?"

They both thought about it for a long time.

"Ronald is Mexican…" Cecil said hesitantly.

"Buenas muchos!" said Ronald.

"That's no good," said Bob.

"…Henry?" said Cecil.

"Fuck man! He's French. Are you saying there's NO black people in this ghetto?"

At that moment, Dan strode by. "Hullo guys!" he cried merrily, swinging his pocket book by his side. "Hope the war's going well! See you all later!"

"DAN'S A BLACK GUY!" they gasped. And Bob yanked Dan over towards them.

"We need you to translate out of the black language for us," he said.

"Fuck!" said Tim. "This cracka's a BG. He ain't swool. Now the boss wants you ho's to know that the fight's gonna start at dawn. So be there, or we'll marinade your spuds in cranberry basting sauce."

Cecil and Bob turned to Dan. "Well?" they said.

Dan shrugged his shoulders. "I've no idea," he said.

Cecil shook his by the shoulders. "But this is your language! You're one of the honoured People. You got black blood flowing through your honourable veins!"

"Black people don't have black blood," Dan said.

"THEY DON'T?" said Cecil.

"Of course not."

"And you've no idea what he's saying?"

"He's just speaking garbage. How am I supposed to understand it?"

"It's not the black language?" Cecil gaped.

"No, he's just being a douche bag," said Dan.

Cecil felt like he was having a revelation. He knew it was a revelation because his toes started to tingle, up to his knees and his hips, through his wang and all the way up. Well, it was a revelation or a stroke. Suddenly, he remembered the day when he had decided to become a gangsta…

_FLASHBACK!_

Cecil was eleven years old, and a student at Jim-Jim-Jimmedy-Jimson's boarding school. He was a hardworking but awful student, and every afternoon had the blackboard rubber whizzing past his ear for not paying attention. And then, the cane across his palms for refusing to play rugby because he wasn't fond of games where he was stripped shirtless and piled on top of by other bigger boys. The headmaster gave him six of the best and told him that was what boarding school was all about. Then he sent him packing to polish the older boys' in his dorm shoes and obey their sexual commands.

That evening, Cecil Eustace Julian Edmund Harvey sat by the window crying like a pansy. He cried very softly, because just earlier that day he'd been locked into the store cupboard with Bruce "bruiser" Kingsley for the exact same thing.

"Why me?" he sobbed. "Why does this happen to me? I never hurt anybody. I try my best. So why…?"

"Well bludd ya won't change anything by crying," a voice said. Cecil turned his head; a man was sat next to him, wearing trackies, a baseball cap and holding a magic wand. His skin was as dark and rich as chocolate.

"Are you my… fairy godmother?" Cecil gasped.

"Hell no!" said the man. "I'm here to steal the motherfucking protractors and take down the system."

"When why do you have a fairy wand?" Cecil asked.

"This is a crowbar kid. I just took out three bitches and a window on my way in."

Cecil wasn't listening. "A fairy godmother. My own fairy godmother!"

"Hey kid, I don't suppose you know where they stash the stationary here?"

"So you can turn calculators and erasers into a carriage and coachmen, right?" said Cecil excitedly.

The fairy godmother laughed. "Yeah, and then we're gonna ride that goddamn pumpkin to put a compass in The Man's eye."

"Sweeeet," said Cecil.

They snuck through the dark school towards the stationary cupboard, that gleaming cache of staplers, hole-punchers and coloured crayons. But when he tried to turn the handle, it wouldn't budge.

"I guess we'll have to go home," he sighed.

The fairy godmother pulled out a chain saw and tore chunks out of the door like a shark would.

"Having a fairy godmother is a LOT cooler than in Cinderella," he said, awed.

Clicking on the flickering fluorescent light, the man threw down his bag, and started throwing it full of stationary.

"Grab a load for me," he told Cecil. "Just stick the shit in."

Cecil grabbed an armful of plastic wallets and amusing pencil-top erasers and stuffed them into the rucksack. He was now enjoying himself immensely; school had never been this fun before. "Now when do you use your magic to transform it?" he asked.

"Later. Now, go and place these around the school and meet me outside." He handed Cecil several petrol bombs and carrying the detonator, he started reeling the wire out into the car park. Cecil skipped merrily down the school corridors, planting the packages his fairy godmother had given him. When he was done, he met the man outside, now sat down on the detonator, puffing on a fag.

"Want a puff?" he asked, offering it.

Cecil shook his head. "I don't succumb to peer pressure," he said.

"Alright," said the man. "Flip this switch for me."

Cecil pushed the detonator and the school exploded. Fiery tongues engulfed it; the roof slid in, and the entire building collapsed into rubble.

He said, "Did I do that?"

His fairy godmother put his hand on Cecil's shoulder, and told him, "The way to deal with your problems, kid, is not to cry about them. Instead, blow them up with five hundred pounds of nitroglycerine."

"Well," said Cecil. "I suppose you do know best. You ARE my fairy godmother."

"There ain't no fairy tales in this life. All there are are guns, sex and Jay-Z."

Cecil only knew what two of those things were and his mother didn't let him listen to rap music anyway because it was corrupting today's youth.

His fairy godmother finished; "You got someone screwing you around? Kick 'em in the balls. Don't let people walk over you; walk over THEM before you get a chance. And if there's something you want, TAKE it. It's up to YOU to take control of your life kid."

"My name's not kid," he said. "It's Cecil."

The man burst into laughter. "Cecil!" he guffawed.

"It's not funny!" Cecil fumed.

The man rolled around with laughter.

"It's not!"

He broke into hysterics.

"Okay, maybe it is a little…" Cecil admitted. The man straightened up.

"This is why you ain't gotta take no shit from nobody," he said. "Especially with a name like… Cecil," he struggled from bursting into giggles. "You gotta be so bad that the name… _Cecil_ will make people tremble in fear. Be the most badass Cecil there ever was, till nobody dares to laugh at your name. Anyone who messes with you, pop a cap in their ass."

"But fairy godmother, I'm not like you," Cecil protested. "I don't have a Addidas cap."

The man took off his hat, and placed it on Cecil's head.

"Or Nike trainers!" he said.

The man took of his trainers and dangled them towards him on his index finger.

"And—and—I'm not black either! How am I supposed to be badass and pop caps in asses, if I'm not black? "

"Sorry," said the man, smiling sadly. "That's one wish I can't grant. But let me tell you this; jus because you ain't black on the outside, it doesn't mean you're not black on the inside." He touched Cecil on his chest, right on the heart.

There were the sounds of sirens, approaching closer.

"Respect, little man," he said, offering his knuckles.

"Respect!" said Cecil. Then his fairy godmother hucked his rucksack over his back, and fled into the woods as the police arrived. Cecil waved, smiling contentedly into the far distance.

An officer saw him standing there, and the detonator at his feet, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Son, you didn't have anything to do with this, did you?" he said. But he had a son of his own this age, and the boy looked so friendly—he was sure he wasn't involved.

Cecil picked up the chainsaw and revved it. "Get out of ma face motherfucker or I'll pop a cap in your ass!" he screamed.

END OF FLASHBACK!

Cecil was standing there with a very strange look in his eye. Bob waved his hand in front of him, to no response.

"Hey Cecil man, you okay?" he asked.

"I must admit I am feeling a tad queer," Cecil squeaked. Bob and Tim stared. Cecil clapped a hand over his mouth. "I mean—I feel like a fucking lump of shit."

"What's wrong?" said Bob. "You want some more hash?"

"It is against my morality to do recreational drugs," said Cecil. "Ahh- I mean, get me twenty pounds of coke!"

Bob was frowning. "Cecil—"

"You people think you're so hard and cool but you 'gangstas' are really nothing but bullies!" he exclaimed tearfully. "Wait—" he said. Actually, perhaps this wasn't a revelation after all, and it really a stroke. He swayed on his feet, and then sunk unconscious to the ground.

TO BE CONTINUED...!


	7. Cecil's Middle Class Evening

_Badass Farmers_

_Part 7;__ Cecil's Middle-Class Evening_

"I'm afraid we're probably going to have to postpone the battle," Alex whispered to Nina.

"Why? What's wrong with him? Did my mother shove a bottle-opener up his ass again?" she demanded.

"No, no… it's not that this time," Alex said. "But he seems to be under the impression he's a middle class British man."

"I have to see him," said Nina, trying to brush past Alex. He held him back.

"I'm not sure that's wise. The changes may… shock you."

"Let me through," she demanded. Uneasily, Alex let her past.

In the hospital bed, Cecil was sitting up. He was wearing a woollen pullover and reading glasses, his hair parted instead of gelled. In his hands he was reading The Times. When he saw Nina, he lowered his spectacles.

"Good evening Nina!" he said, patting the space beside him. "Have a sit down," then he frowned. "Goodness, you're not wearing much, are you? Don't you think you should put on some more clothes?"

Nina was wearing a candy thong and a pair of nipple tassles.

"But you said this was how you like it," she said, pouting, and jumped into Cecil's lap.

"Ooof!" he spluttered. "But don't you think dressing like that is degrading to women?"

"Huh?" she said. "What's 'degrading'?"

"Don't you grow tired of the over-sexualisation of young women in the media? The way you're reduced only to sex blow up dolls, with no real value in personality?"

Nina stared. "Do you want to bang or not?"

Cecil sighed and tucked his spectacles into his shirt pocket. He said; "Nina, I've always felt almost… paternal to you. I know growing up without a father is difficult, and me and your mother get on so well that I feel like over these last few months I have become a kind of father figure to you. What do you think?"

"I think you should shut it so we can have sex."

Cecil put a finger over Nina's lips. "Nina, you're at a very tender age. Being a teenager means your hormones are all over the place and you may want to experiment with many different things. And you know that me and your mother want you to be happy. But you should never let yourself be pressured into things you're not comfortable with, and friends who pressure are not real friends at all. Your virginity is a precious thing and it is not anybody else's to give away. Wait until you are ready, and you find somebody you love and trust enough to experience it with."

From her ball of sin, debauchery and numbness she had fallen into, fifteen year old Nina was almost touched. But she said, "Dad, I think this talk is kinda overdue."

"And I'm sorry I wasn't there before to support you love. But I'm here now, whenever you want to talk, understand? You've gone through a lot of terrible things, but we can get through them together."

Tears pricked at Nina's eyes, and she sniffed.

"It's just that, after Dad died… I've always felt so alone," she said. "And how could I tell Mum, when she was going through it all too? And I felt like… nobody cared. And I took it out on other people, and on myself. I did terrible things, just so I could forget about my sadness. Just so I could keep moving…"

"You don't have to feel alone anymore Nina," Cecil said. "I'm here for you." And he pulled her close to him, cradling her like a child against his chest.

"Oh Dad!" she said, crying into his pullover.

Peeping in through the curtain, Alex said, "Dude, this shit is messed up."

Across the town, separated by trenches, several acres of barbed wire and tank mines, lay Jamie's camp. His brave men were feasting, getting ready for the momentous battle in the morning, but Jamie had chosen not to join them. The cold night air stinging his skin, he threw his poncho over his shoulders, and retired to his tent and mixing desk.

Once upon a time, he'd tried to become a famous DJ, was laughed off the DJ scene because of his genitalia, and fled to Flower Bud Valley to mope and grow cabbages.

This accounted for his gloomy behaviour, and also, his wicked awesome DJ skills.

He flicked a switch, and the disco lights flashed on. He leant low, tenderly switching up the bass. A flourish, and some acoustics. And then he scratched his little heart out.

"Oh if I was a rich man

Na-na-na-na-na

Except I'm a hermaphrodite

Na-na-na-na-na

Then I'd have all the money in the world!"

But then, he cut the bass.

"But hey, baby, don't you know that a rich man  
A rich man that might be poor  
If money is all that he has  
Baby, without love, there's nothing you can do - oh, oh, oh  
Without love, you're not really you - oh, oh, oh."

Quietly he sung;

"I, I'm gonna miss watching you while you sleep  
cause that was the only time I ever found some peace  
I use to believe it was me who was insane, but now I  
take it back cause compared to you I'm OK  
and I, I forgive you."

Another side of Jamie, one he rarely showed since he was laughed off the stage back in the city, compelled him to sing Kate Bush songs alone in the dark.

"Mmh, yes, then I'd taken the kiss of seedcake  
Back from his mouth, going deep South, go down, mmh, yes  
Took six big wheels and rolled our bodies  
Off of Howth Head and into the flesh, mmh, yes  
He said, "I was a flower of the mountain, yes  
But now I've powers o'er a woman's body, yes

(even though I'm a hermaphrodite, yes.)"

Jamie leant down and cried on his mixing desk. Just then, Duke poked his head through the tent. "Hey boss…" he said hesitantly. Jamie quickly cranked up the volume and screamed into the mic.

"Fuck you!  
Ooo, ooo, ooo  
I guess the change in my pocket  
Wasn't enough i'm like,  
Fuck you!  
And fuck him too!  
I said, if I was richer, I'd still be with ya  
Ha, now ain't that some shit? (ain't that some shit?)  
although there's pain in my chest  
I still wish you the best with a  
Fuck you!  
Ooo, ooo, ooo"

"Uh, boss?" said Duke.

"I just want to FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU!"

"That sounds great boss but I have some news—"

"JUST WANT TO FUCK YOU—"

"—About Cecil—"

"-TO FUCK YOU FUCK—what?"

"Cecil!" he bellowed. Annoyed, he said, "we've received news from the enemy camp. Something's happen to Cecil. He's gone round the bend and thinks he's British."

Jamie pulled the power cord on the mixing desk. "I wasn't singing Kate Bush," he said conspiratorily.

"Of course not sir," Duke said airily.

"I love Jay-Z and Tinie Temper," Jamie said firmly.

"Of course sir," said Duke.

"Music about life in the ghetto, stabbin' and killin'. Proper music." They nodded at one another, then Jamie set off to go visit Cecil.

"Cecil!" Jamie said, bursting into the room. "I heard you went looney tunes."

Cecil was sat on the bed reading aloud his favourite passages from War and Peace, to Nina, sat crosslegged on the floor and listening, enraptured.

"Evening Jamie," said Cecil. "Care to join us? We're playing Cluedo afterwards."

Jamie shoved past Nina. "Out of the way, ho," pushing her to the side. He squared up to Cecil, shoving his face right in his. Cecil smiled pleasantly. "Who are you?" Jamie demanded. "And what have you done with Cecil? You do realise the biggest battle this shithole's ever seen is about to go down tomorrow?"

"Oh, we don't need to worry about that anymore," said Cecil. "I'm anti-violence. I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt on my behalf."

"Anti-violence?" Jamie spat. "You turned this village into a ghetto and divided it in half."

"Yeah," said Cecil. "That might have been a teency mistake."

"A teency mistake?" Jamie bellowed. "Mate, you can't start shit and not finish it. My boys are baying for your blood and they're going to have it."

"Now Jamie," Cecil said, and he took his hands. "Just because our relationship is over doesn't mean we can't be civil about it. Remember, this isn't about us anymore. It's about the children."

"We don't have children," Jamie said, through gritted teeth.

Nina climbed onto Cecil's lap. "Daddy, why does step-mommy always say that?"

Cecil stroked Nina's hair tenderly. "Your step-mother is just going through some issues honey. You know she loves you."

"I don't love that little ho!" Jamie said, jumping up and down, his sombrero bouncing off his head.

Nina started bawling. Cecil put his hand on his hip and said, "Jamie! This is your daughter you're talking about."

"I don't have a daughter!" said Jamie.

Nina cried even harder.

"Jamie, just because you're upset, don't take it out on Nina," Cecil said. "This is between you and me."

"Damn straight it is," Jamie sneered. "And I still have your Tinie Tempah album, bitch."

"That's fine," said Cecil.

"Yeah that's what I thought—eh?"

"You keep it. And I hope you'll find some degree of happiness from it."

"You don't want it?" said Jamie.

"No," said Cecil.

"Then I don't want it," and Jamie threw it at his head. It clattered to the ground. "Now give me half your stuff."

"Of course," Cecil said, he got up and made his way to the door.

"But Cecil!" Alex said. "You're still not properly recovered from your Britishness!"

"Doctor, I thank you for you concern, but I'll be alright."

"It's alright," said Jamie. "He's not actually a doctor. He just likes to play doctors and nurses with Gina."

Alex wriggled his eyebrows. "Damn straight," he said.

They crossed over into Cecil's weed shack, and he handed Jamie a roll of stickers. "Red stickers for all the things you want, blue for mine," he explained.

Jamie preceded to stick red stickers over everything in the house, including all the spoons in the draw, the holey socks, and Cecil pet rotwhiler, Fluffy.

"Your dog's mine, bitch," Jamie said, trying to get Cecil's back up.

But Cecil just said, "OK."

Jamie said, "Aren't you mad?"

"Of course not," said Cecil.

Jamie's hands clenched into fists. "Why aren't you mad?" he exclaimed.

"Jamie, something's telling me that you're not actually interesting in my spoons. You just want to get revenge on me, don't you?"

Finally, Jamie snapped. "Of course I want revenge! You took everything away from me Cecil; everything! You tricked me and made me a laughing stock in front of the whole village. And worst of all, you fucking _broke my heart!"_

Cecil said; "I'm sorry. I know I did wrong. But two headstrong people like us… I'm not sure we were good together."

"We were perfect together! I never found anyone more badass than you. But then… you went and ruined it."

"But I'm not badass anymore Jamie," he said.

"And why not?" Jamie exclaimed. "Why've you gone all middle-class and… British?"

"Because I was never badass. I just used that persona to protect myself from the bullies. The only reason I chainsawed that police man to death was because I was afraid… of being rejected."

"Oh blah blah blah," said Jamie. "I don't want to hear your sob story Cecil. Go tell your psedo-shit to a shrink. Everyone has pain. Everyone suffers. We just don't all go on about it."

"Maybe you should," said Cecil.

"Eh?"

"Maybe you should. I think you're feeling a lot of pain Jamie, you just don't tell anybody. You need to talk."

"Yeah but the thing is, people talk a lot, they just don't listen," he said bitterly.

"Try me," said Cecil.

"But it won't change anything," Jamie said, shaking his head. "Words don't make any difference."

Cecil put his hand over Jamie's. "Talk," he said.

Abruptly, full of passion, his face red, Jamie said, "But I can't! The only way I've managed to survive is by being hard-hearted. By _not _talking. Talking about my problems is too _painful_. You don't understand what it's like; being the way I am. Either people are scared of me, or disgusted, or they think it's funny! They laugh at my pain. They think they can make a humorous parody story about it? How sick is that?"

"Totally disgusting," agreed Cecil. But he said, "Not everybody feels that way about you. When I first saw you... I thought you were the most beautiful hermaphrodite I'd ever seen."

"Really?" squeaked Jamie. He couldn't help it; there were tears in his eyes.

"I mean, I've seen what, two, three hermaphrodites in my life, but you would much cuter than them by _far_. If they did hermaphrodite modelling, you'd be a cert."

Jamie burst into tears, and blubbered into Cecil's turtle-neck sweater.

"And not just that; you were so strong. Whatever life threw at you, you never gave up. You never leant on anybody. But Jamie," he tilted his head up to stare into his eyes, "you don't have to be alone anymore. You can rely on me."

Jamie threw his arms around Cecil's neck and embraced him, crushed him against his chest and never wanted to let go. "Oh Cecil!" he cried, saying the words in wild abandon. "Cecil! Cecil! Cecil!"

The roof broke with a shattering smash. The whirl of helicopters, and five men in black jumpsuits slid down ropes into the shack. They strode straight to Cecil, grabbed him and handcuffed his hands behind his back.

"W-what are you doing?" he spluttered.

One man pressed a walkie talkie to his face; "We have Offender 212, repeat, we have apprehended Offender 212."

Another said, "We're arresting you for crimes against humanity."

In his turtle-neck jumper and tweed jacket, Cecil was so shocked he dropped his smoking pipe. "What crimes?" he said.

An officer let a roll of paper cascade down onto the floor. He began to read; "21 counts of arson, 5 counts of murder, 3721 counts of possession of illegal drugs, 1 count of trying to solicit sex from a farm yard animal and-"

"Okay, okay, enough. I remember!" said Cecil. Jamie was glaring at him. "Look, I was high. I thought it had asked me back to its pen for coffee."

"A probation officer from your borstal came round two weeks ago to check how your work placement was going and returned with some disturbing facts—and several bullet wounds. Her report says, 'When I had finally located Cecil Harvey, offender 212, he cried, "GIT OFF MA LAND!" and pulled out an AK,"" the man said.

"Yeah," said Cecil, "about that..."

He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away. "Honey, you're going away for a long time."

"But wait, I've changed!" cried Cecil, as the men stuffed him into a helicopter. "I'm not gangsta anymore. I've chaaaaaaaaaaaaanged!"

The men slammed the helicopter door, and Cecil banged futilelessly against the window as it soared into the sky.

And Jamie ran after them, the grass rippling and waving, his sombrero ripped off his head, crying, "CECIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL, I LOVE YOU!"

TO BE CONTINUED...


	8. Epilogue

**Badass Farmers**

**Epilogue**

With Cecil gone, it was as though the spell was broken. All through the village street-walkers threw down their candy g-strings and went back to crocheting. Maria stopped fucking Saibara and remembered that actually, she didn't like sex; she liked postmodernist literature. Saibara would have liked to have carried on fucking Maria, but was forced to exclaim loudly, "Wow, it was like I was under a spell. I actually love making tools!" and go grumbling back to his smithy. Terry guiltily tried to put all the small animals he'd blown apart back together, and Kurt was content again just to make passive aggressive remarks. Nina's mother wondered why there was a bottle-opener up her ass, and Nina skipped to the village payphone to call her friend Lyla.

"Hey Lyla! Are you and Nami coming for the flower festival this year?"

And for some reason, she slammed the phone down on her!

Hank, Ellen, Blue and Bob stared at their acres in puzzlement; where were their tomatoes, lettuce, eggplants? And why was there two hundred and fifty acres of hasha?

On the plus side; Basil started respecting women again and Eve got all her trade back. "Look who came crawling back!" she periodically cackled, as she oiled up her creaking hip joints.

Some however, took longer to adapt.

Sat at the kitchen table, the Mayor's cup of coffee rattled in his hand. He sweated and shook all over.

"Daddy?" Maria said. The Mayor splashed hot coffee all over himself. In her flannel princess pajamas, Maria came down the last stair. "Daddy, are you alright?"

"M-Maria," he said, trembling. "You might be able to pretend this was a bad dream. But we can't go back to the way we were. For God sake, girl, I saw you have sex with eight men- at the same time!"

Maria looked at him blankly. "I did what now?"

"Don't lie to me daughter. You had sex. S-E-X."

"What's that?" she asked.

The Mayor grabbed fistfuls of photographs from the table and threw them at her; Maria being ridden bareback, Maria, reverse cowgirl, doggy style; she'd documented it all. Maria picked up the photos and flipped through them disinterestedly.

"Oh yeah," she said. "I remember that sex thing now."

"Then you admit it?" the Mayor said feverishly.

"Sure. Uncle Hank and I did that on the back of his tractor when I was eleven. It wasn't very fun. Now do you want to see my embroidery Daddy? I've done a flower, a woolly sheepy and- Daddy?"

The Mayor, foaming from the mouth, had passed out on the table.

* * *

But the biggest change was this; Jamie had gone. The wind swept through his empty house and in the fields, cabbages went rotten.

And at the maximum security prison, Jamie skipped and flounced up the driveway, twirling in a summer dress, wide-brimmed hat flying high. He skipped to the reception, joyously greeting the stony faced guards, and danced into the visiting gallery. Cecil was there, separated by a glass drivider, a turtle-neck sweater over his orange jumpsuit, and with a new nose stud.

"Cecil!" Jamie cried. "I did it! I got accepted into DJ Palooza." He clasped his hands through he small lot in the glass.

"Wow, that's wonderful honey!" Cecil said.

"And look; I made it onto the cover of Hermaphrodite Modelling!" He held up a magazine, which featured Jamie in a see-through white slip, balancing a feather boa, and throwing a sultry look into the camera. The title above declared; "Man, woman, both, who cares! Jamie's the new IT!"

"That's amazing! How did you do it?" asked Cecil.

"I just invited everyone round for a drink, and opened the floor to questions about my genitalia. By being honest and not secretive, people can understand better."

"Really?"

"I think now that _I'm_ more comfortable with me, it's easier for other people to be too."

Cecil raised an eybrow.

"Well… that and planting a bomb in the corporate director's cat helps too."

They laughed raucously and slapped hands through the slot. "That's my girl!" he said.

"But how are you?" Jamie said anxiously. "They aren't making for of you in here for being British… are they?"

Cecil shook his head. "I've found an inner balance between my two personalities. I can finally be the Cecil I was without hiding behind the gansta persona, and I abhor violence- but I can still pop caps in asses if needs be. What I've learnt from this," he placed a hand over his head, "is that my fairy godmother was right; I just never understood him properly. Being black isn't a lifestyle; dressing up in Nikes and acting cool. Being black is something that happens on the _inside_. And Jamie; if I hadn't met you I never would have understood that. I would have kept on living a lie."

"Oh! And Cecil, if you hadn't screamed profanities at me, I might have been stuck in that shitbucket of a village forever. You know; I couldn't stand those people. They're all such pussies."

And they kissed, French-tonguing against the glass until the guard whacked Cecil with his baton.

"Cecil," Jamie said, tears rolling down his face, "I promise I'll still be here, waiting for you, when you get out in seventy years."

**The End**

**Notes; **I hope you all enjoyed this rather... experimental story. It was my chance to be as absurd, as rude, and to take it in whatever direction I felt like at the time. Plus, this section is full of so many self-inserts and lovely-dovey stories about farming, and I just enjoy fucking with fandoms.

For me, the highlight of this story was Jamie on on his combine harvester DJ desk, scratching out, _Forget the gender stereotypes, asswipe. Cuz I'm Jamie- Hermaphrodite. _Ahh, I do love Jamie. Let me all know what part you enjoyed best.

Love, Nina.**xxx  
**


End file.
